Recovery
by darlasmom
Summary: Sequel to Retrieval. Bones is back home - but she's still in trouble. Can Booth come to the rescue again? Rated T due to emotional trauma.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a little announcement regarding this sequel. This is fiction - in the real world, anyone suffering from any type of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder should see a doctor without delay. I do not in any way, shape or form recommend attempting to treat someone suffering from a PTSD.**

**Having said that, here is the first chapter of the sequel to Retrieval, and it picks up a short time after the other story ends. You really should read Retrieval first, everything in this story will make a lot more sense if you do. I hope you like it - please review, I just love hearing from all of you! (Oh - I posted this in the middle of the night, so if there's anything that doesn't make sense, don't hesitate to let me know! Thanks!  
**

**RECOVERY**

"Angela, have you finished the facial reconstruction?" Bones wheeled around in her chair, motioning as she spotted the artist climbing the stairs.

Angela crossed the platform, leaning on the railing next to the computer. "I'm working on it, sweetie – Zach had a lot of remodeling to do before I could start. But I'm getting there." Angela smiled, putting her hand on Bones' shoulder. "So, you want to go have dinner after we're done here? I found this really great Tapas place called Jaleo – they have the **best** paella dishes, and an extensive wine list." She draped her arm around Bones. "Whatta ya think?"

"I can't, Angela, sorry. I have to catch up on a lot of work, and anyway, I can't have wine. Alcohol is contraindicated while I'm on my medications." She grabbed her papers, limping to the stairs. "Maybe next week." She made her way slowly to her office, ignoring everyone around her.

Angela followed her progress, sighing unhappily as she saw Bones' door quietly shut. She dropped into the chair her friend had vacated, swiveling slowly back and forth. She looked up as a shadow fell across her. "Booth, hey."

"What's up – you get fired or something?" Booth leaned against the railing and stared at Angela. "Why the long face?" When she didn't respond, an uneasy feeling snaked down his spine. "What's wrong, Angela? Is Bones okay? Where is – "

She stood up and, grabbing his arm, tugged him toward the stairs. "We need to talk." She dragged him down the hall to her office, shutting and locking the door behind her. Sitting in her chair, she folded her arms. "What has she told you?"

"About what? Angela, where is she – is she alright?" He leaned forward over the desk. "Tell me what's going on."

"I mean, what has she told you about what happened to her in Dulny? Because I can't get a word out of her. I've been trying for a month now to get her to go for dinner, for coffee, just for a chat, even."

Booth rubbed his eyes, knowing without a doubt what was coming. And wishing he was wrong. "And?"

"And – nothing. There's always a reason why she can't go, and she disappears into her office. 'Maybe next week', that's what she keeps saying." She frowned, leaning back in her chair.

Exhaling, Booth leaned against the desk, running a hand through his hair. "I know – I've tried to connect with her for lunch, dinner, a drive around town, anything. She always makes excuses – and since she hasn't been cleared yet to resume field work, the only time I see her is during lab hours. I even stopped at her house a couple of times, but she says she's tired, and doesn't let me in." His troubled eyes met hers. "She won't let me in – in any way. Since we got back, she's slowly distanced herself from me. I can't seem to reach her." It hurt, having to admit that. They'd always depended on each other, for everything, no matter how serious. The knowledge that she would hide from him now, when he was sure she needed help the most, was a bitter pill for him to swallow.

"Do you think she's worried about her injuries? Maybe she's afraid she won't ever be one hundred percent again."

"No, that's not it. I was with her when the docs at GWU told her she'd recover completely. Besides, she's too much of a scientist to bitch about recovery time – she knows all about that stuff." Frowning, Booth considered the matter. "I've been thinking about this, trying to get a handle on it. She's closed off – I've seen this before. Hell, I've **been** through this before. She's not dealing with the emotions – you let that crap get hold of you, and after a while, you can't get rid of it without help. I've seen some guys just fall off the radar; they can't come back from it." He immediately regretted speaking so candidly when a panicked look crossed Angela's face.

"So what do we do? We can't make her see a psychiatrist – she would never willingly do that." She bit her lip, bewildered. "She's the most rational person I've ever met – but I'm not sure reason will work this time." She glanced up, her brows lifted in question as Booth stood, hands jammed in his pockets.

"Reason's not the answer. I'm gonna have to push her, maybe pretty hard. She's not gonna like it – I can't be sure how she'll react. I don't want to do this, but she's so stubborn, that may be the only thing that works." The sober lines of his face bespoke his reluctance to proceed.

She bit her lip, troubled by the expression on his face. She'd never seen him look that scared - ever. "And if it doesn't?"

Booth looked at her grimly. "Then she'll still have you."

* * *

"Further examination of the ribcage revealed unusual pitting of the manubrium, as evidenced in exhibit B. It is the determination of this office that the deterioration was caused by the application of a caustic agent, most likely – " Bones snapped off her recorder as Booth stepped in her office and closed the door. "Booth, I can't talk right now – I have to finish this report for Dr. Saroyan. You'll have to come back later."

He simply turned and flipped the lock on her door. "This can't wait." Moving to her desk, he sat, facing her squarely, observing her. She'd gained back some of the weight, but there were deep shadows under her eyes. He hated seeing her so fragile. _Be careful what you say – don't screw it up. _"We need to talk about what's going on with you." He sensed an immediate reaction from her, and knew that her defenses were at the ready.

"With me? There's nothing 'going on' with me." Her face was set and cold, and her tone told him that, contrary to what she'd said, she knew exactly what he meant. "I'm trying to get my work done for the day."

"Bones, something's not right – **you're** not right. Did you ever talk to anyone about what happened in Dulny?" _Bullseye_, he thought, noting the flush of anger in her cheeks. Her chin jutted out, a sure sign that she was ready for a fight.

"With whom would you have me talk?"

"Well, how about a psychiatrist?" he offered, knowing how the suggestion would be received. She didn't disappoint him.

"What possible reason would I have to speak to a psychiatrist? You know I can't stand 'soft' sciences. Besides, there's nothing wrong with me, and I resent your interference in my life." She impatiently shoved at the papers on her desk, scattering them completely.

He observed the tightening of her jaw with grim satisfaction. _Yep, she's __**way**__ more angry than she should be. Cracks in the façade…_ "You need to share what happened to you – keeping it to yourself is just gonna hurt you in the long run. If someone knew what happened –" He broke off as she slammed a book to the desk.

"**You** know what happened. So I really haven't kept it to myself, have I?" Rising unsteadily from her chair, she headed for the door, fuming when he stepped in her path. "You need to get out of my way, Booth." She hesitated, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "I'm **truly** grateful for everything you did – but I don't want to talk about this."

He leaned in, gripping her by the shoulders. _Time for one last shove._ "The nightmares," he ground out, taking a chance, "how often do you have them?" He watched the color vanish from her face, and fought viciously against the guilt. _I'm doing this for her, dammit. It __**has**__ to be done._ He released his hold, and she stood, breathing heavily, eyes on the floor. Knowing he'd pushed enough for now, hating himself, he headed for the door, looking back at her as he unlocked it. "You have to face it sometime, Bones. It's not gonna go away." Leaving her standing there was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. _I won't be leaving you alone for long, Bones. We're going to finish this._


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the wonderful reviews for the first chapter - you guys definitely kept me going! Here is the latest installment, I hope you like it. Again, all reviews are most appreciated!

**Just a little announcement regarding this sequel. This is fiction - in the real world, anyone suffering from any type of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder should see a doctor without delay. I do not in any way, shape or form recommend attempting to treat someone suffering from a PTSD.**

**RECOVERY**

"Jimmy, did you get the schematic for the factory? 'Cause I don't wanna be wandering around in there like a mouse in a maze." Booth sighed impatiently at the squawking voice coming out of his cel as he headed toward the lab. "**I don't** **care **what the zoning department head told you – **you** tell **him **if he doesn't cooperate, I will **throw his ass in jail**. Yes, use my **exact** words, Jimmy. The warrant'll be issued by Monday afternoon, and I wanna hit that place by Monday evening. Make sure I have what I need by then, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, he shoved the phone in his pocket in disgust. Swiping his card, he accessed the platform, heading for Hodgins. "Hey, you have my report?"

Jack handed over the overfilled manila folder, snickering when the contents threatened to spill onto the floor. He hastily shut his mouth and smiled at Booth when hit with a frigid glare. "Sorry, man, but there was a lot of data to process. The exines and dinoflagellates were extremely unusual, so it took a lot of research…" he paused as Booth crossed his arms and stared at him in annoyance. "What?"

"**More** words I don't need to know. Just tell me if there's anything in here that's in English, because you lost me at 'sorry'."

"Yes, first page is a translation, puts it all in layman's terms – you **do** know what layman's terms means, right?" Jack grinned and held up his hands, backing up hastily as Booth stepped toward him, scowling. "Just joking, Booth. You know, you're not half as much fun, now that you're working these cases alone. I can't wait 'til Dr. Brennan can go out with you again."

"So, uh...where is Bones, anyway?" Booth had been surreptitiously scanning the room since he'd walking in, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He was afraid that, yet again, she'd seen him coming and had disappeared down one of the long hallways until he was gone. It had been a week since he'd talked with her, and she'd been avoiding him ever since. The few times he'd managed to arrive undetected, she'd made quick excuses and walked away without another word. _I guess I should have expected as much, but this is getting out of hand. Bones never avoids __**anything**__._ "She in a meeting?"

Jack looked at him, surprised. "Don't you know where she is?"

Booth frowned, immediately concerned. "No, why would I? Is something wrong?"

"Well, she called out sick today – I figured she would've told you, you guys are always calling each other. Come to think of it," he added, as Booth aimed a perturbed look at him, "I don't think I've ever seen her take a sick day without warning. That's kinda weird, isn't it? I mean, even when she was in the hospital, she called in almost every day to check on our progress with the files – but I haven't heard from her at all today."

Booth pursed his lips, his brain working feverishly. "What did she say when she called?"

"I didn't talk to her – she asked specifically for Zach, and gave him directions for the entire day. I wonder why she didn't just tell Angela?"

_Because Angela would've known something was wrong – and she would've called me. Zach wouldn't ask any questions, and she knew that. _"Where's Angela?"

"Dr. Saroyan dragged her into a meeting at 9:30, and they've been in there ever since." Jack winced. "Something about a presentation of the Angelator to prospective donors. You want her to call you when she's back?"

"No, that's alright, I'll talk to her later." Booth tapped his hand on the edge of the folder as he left. His spidey-sense was tingling; something was definitely not right. _I think it's time to have another talk with her – I've waited long enough._ Grateful that it was the weekend and he'd have a couple non-work days, he made several phone calls as he pulled out of the parking structure. Turning east, he headed into the evening, toward his partner.

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Standing in the darkness, looking up at her windows, he wasn't at all sure now that coming here had been the right thing to do. _Maybe I need to give her some time. She hates me right now._ He'd berated himself for the past week – he'd been too hard on her, she'd been through a major ordeal and he should have been kinder – even though he knew he'd done what was necessary, and done it because he cared. _Care a little too much, don't you? Oh, that's right, you don't want to talk about that. Tell me again the part about suppressing strong emotions, tough guy?_ Ruthlessly, he crushed down that errant thought. _I should just go home – most of her lights are out, she's probably asleep._ Even as he went up the stairs, he argued with himself about confronting her – finally, finding himself standing at her door, he realized he wasn't going anywhere but to her. He continued to debate the matter, and had almost convinced himself to leave when he stopped, listening. _What the hell was that? _Straining, he finally heard it again – a quiet sob. He instinctively tried the knob, but, of course, it was locked. He knocked, and the soft sounds stopped as if someone had hit the mute button. "Bones?" There was nothing but silence for a moment, but he sensed her moving closer to the door.

"What do you want?"

He tried the door, but it was still locked. "Let me in, Bones – you're upset, you shouldn't be alone."

"Go away." Her tone was final, her voice tight with unshed tears, and it faded as she turned away.

_This is not good._ He pulled out the key she'd given him and unlocked the door, but was stopped short by the security chain. "I'm not leaving, Bones – undo the chain."

"I'm not letting you in, so just **go home**."

His jaw flexed, and he put his shoulder to the door and forced it, pushing until the chain plate pulled from the wall. He stepped into the room and pushed the door shut, meeting her disbelieving glare.

"Are you crazy? Why won't you leave me alone? I don't want you here." He simply stared at her until her composure began to erode under his silent observation. He was looking at her, much like he often did, as if he knew everything she was thinking. Knew even the things she was afraid to admit to herself. His powers of observation were truly frightening.

"That's not an option," he stated bluntly. "I'm not gonna leave you here by yourself when you're hurting." He slid the deadbolt into place, and moved further into the room. He looked at her closely, noting her red-rimmed eyes and tensed muscles. _Oh, Bones._

She flung her hand in the air, outraged at his tenacity. "Even if I tell you to go? I'm telling you I want you to go." As she spit out the brittle words, she saw a familiar mulish look cross his face, and knew there would be trouble.

"Well, you don't always get what you want, Temperance." He paused momentarily, studying her. "And you don't really want to be alone, anyway."

"How the hell do you know what I want?" She limped away from him, breathing heavily, frustrated, wishing him somewhere, anywhere – away from here. _Why won't he just __**go**__? I need to be alone, I __**have **__to be alone…I can't do this, I can't…_

A smile briefly touched his lips, but stopped short of his eyes. "I'm the heart guy, remember? This is my area of expertise. You can't be rational and practical all the time, and when you're not, I'll be here for you." He saw it then, saw the wildness leap into her eyes, and prepared himself for the explosion. He just hoped he'd survive.

She shouted at him, naked fear on her face, desperation adding venom to her words. "Expertise? You're _**guessing**_! You don't know me, you don't know what I need! Just get out!"

He stood, impassive, looking steadily at her. "No."

Her face crumpled, and she backed away from him as he stepped forward – shaking her head, choking on the tears. He kept advancing, and closed his arms firmly around her, despite her furious struggles. She fought frantically, but he wouldn't let go – suddenly, with a low moan, she gave in, clutching him. As her injured leg buckled he supported her, pulling her to the couch, folding her securely onto his lap. She burrowed mindlessly against his chest, crying quietly, clinging fiercely. For all the intensity of the storm, she barely made a sound – it was almost as if she was afraid to show any infirmity.

He held her – simply held her, letting her release all the rage and sorrow, the terror and hurt. He smoothed his hand in calming circles across her back. "It's okay, I've got you. You're alright, you're okay. It's gonna be alright, I promise." Over and over, nothing words, routine words of comfort, but they're what people say, and he hoped they helped. After a long time, she calmed, stilling in his embrace, but not pulling away. He closed his eyes – all of his attention, all of his heart, centered on the woman pressed close to him. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this happened to you. You didn't deserve it. You've had more than your share of pain and heartbreak, more than any one person should have to face. You'll never have to face anything bad - not alone, never again. I promise. _Knowing that he couldn't share his thoughts with her, at least not now, he remained silent. She wasn't ready to hear them, not yet. Time passed, and with reluctant amusement he sensed her brain sliding back into focus. He smiled wistfully – funny, you could almost hear the click.

She squeezed her eyes shut, quietly listening to the sound of her partner's heartbeat. She felt empty, drained – and slightly mortified. Never, **never** in her life had something like this happened. She was tight against him, **sitting** on him – of all the embarrassing situations she'd been in, this might be the worst. _What now?_ A myriad of thoughts and emotions ran through her, leaving her confused and uneasy. Without warning Booth shifted, pulling her back, studying her.

"You're thinking again." At her surprised look, he elaborated. "You're trying to rationalize the situation, but you can't." He smiled at her, tapped her chin with his thumb. "Talk – you obviously have something to say."

"I don't understand why this happened, why I'm so upset. Logically, I** know** that my success was predicated upon my fighting and survival skills, and upon your presence. Intellectually, I recognize the factors that contributed to the collapse of the Dulny infrastructure, and allowed civil unrest to erupt. But I can't seem to find my equilibrium, and I don't know why." Her eyes were swimming with confusion and turmoil, welling with tears. She felt so confused, so lost. "Why can't I **understand**?"

"You're talking about emotions now, Bones. The mind and the heart, remember? You'd be able to function just fine in your professional life whether or not you got past this, because of who **you** are. But you'll never really be at peace without dealing with the emotions. The fact of the matter is, Bones, your emotions are a part of you, whether you want them to be or not. You can't ignore one aspect of who you are and favor another." She appeared to be listening carefully, so he cautiously took the next step. "You need to tell someone what happened. A lot of people who were in combat situations go through this – hell, why do you think I had a gambling problem?" He looked at her, brows lifted to make his point. He took note of her contemplative expression. "If you can't handle the shrink thing, then at least tell **someone **– a friend, a family member, someone you trust."

Inexplicably, she felt her panic ease. It suddenly didn't seem so bad to just tell someone – but there was only one person she would ever tell. She took a deep breath, slid down to sit next to him, and slowly, hesitantly started talking.

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They sat for hours. She told him everything – all she'd done, all she'd felt. He sat silently – simply listening, understanding that she needed to purge everything, to let go of the emotions she'd had locked up inside her. When she described the two physical encounters, her voice shook, and she dashed at the hot tears that spilled over. Eyes deadly, his jaw clenched as he fought back the black fury roiling inside him. He ruthlessly suppressed his own emotions – he'd deal with them later. _She doesn't need your anger. You have to deal with this – she needs to say it. Get hold of yourself._ He deliberately relaxed his clenched fist and clasped her hand. As she talked, he saw that relating her ordeal was having the effect he'd hoped – she was, little by little, loosening up, sagging slightly against him as if exhausted. As she wound down, he hazarded a couple of questions, satisfying the worst of his curiosity. "How'd you manage to keep going for so long without food?"

"I was able to locate some edible indigenous plant and insect life – I'd done some research on the area before I left D.C."

He shuddered quietly. _I don't want to know about the whole insect thing, thank you very much – but, wow..._ "You're pretty amazing, you know that? You'd have made a good Ranger."

A small smile touched her face. "No, I wouldn't. I'd ask too many questions." She hesitated - then, as if determined to reveal everything, spoke quickly. "When I woke up, when I realized it was you, that it wasn't another dream – I never thought that would happen. You couldn't come, and even if you did, how would you ever find me?"

He glanced at her bemusedly. "I learned more than how to shoot a gun in Ranger training, Bones – I did a lot of tracking during the war." He paused, intrigued by her statement. "You were hoping I would come?" He fought off the pleasure he felt at her statement, telling himself he didn't need any pat on the back. _Don't be a fool, Booth._

She turned her head away, ashamed. "Yes. Apparently, I'm very helpless – I found myself hoping you'd somehow find a way to get to me, because –" oh, it hurt to admit it – "because you have in the past. I felt so weak, so useless."

"Bones, you are **not** weak, **or** helpless," He retorted, his voice sharpening, "and you have no reason to feel that way. You are the only person from that medical group who survived – the **only** one, man **or** woman. If you weren't the extraordinary person you are, do you know what would've happened? I would've gotten to you in time to bring your body home." A mental flash of that scenario popped into his head, and he gritted his teeth, willing himself to focus.

She sighed sadly. "You don't know that, Booth – you're just saying that to be kind."

"I **do** know it. You fought, and fought – you wouldn't give up. Do you realize just how strong you are? And I don't just mean physically. You being here has as much, if not more, to do with you than me." He leaned close, willing her to understand. Her confidence in her own abilities was one of his favorite things about her – it hurt to see it slipping so badly.

She slumped, dejected. "I wouldn't have made it back without you." Her fingers played around the hem of her sweater, forlornly twisting the fabric. It was such an uncharacteristic gesture for her that his heart twisted at the sight, knowing she was questioning herself and her abilities on the most basic level.

"And I couldn't have found you in time if you hadn't struggled past every mile, through every hour." He twisted around to face her as a thought occurred to him. "I know what you're really worried about. It's the 'depending' part, isn't it?" Her silence gave him his answer - and he should have known. "Understand this. You did everything right – **everything**. You used your brain, your courage and your muscle, and you survived, **until your partner could get to you**. You are my **partner**. I will always have your back. **Always**." He paused, then pushed on unflinchingly. "Just like you had mine, that night by the truck." He felt her tense, and knew he'd hit another sore spot.

"I killed two people." She knuckled away an errant tear.

He tipped her chin up. "And I killed more than that. We did what we had to do, Temperance. I'm not saying we should just forget about it, because that's not possible." She was looking intently at him, hanging on every word, so he continued, hoping she'd take his words to heart. "There's that nasty price that we can't avoid, no matter what we do. But we have to try to find some perspective, and see the big picture, or we're just needlessly torturing ourselves. We have to take it, take everything we've been through, and turn it into something good. We have to allow ourselves to heal." They sat silently for a few minutes, worn down by the storm of emotions.

"Booth."

"Yeah?"

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry I was so mean – I don't know why I acted like that. I didn't mean it."

"It's okay, I understand. Don't worry about it."

A wave of relief washed over her. She hadn't ruined their partnership – or their friendship. They were even more important to her now. "Thank you. Thank you for finding me, and thank you for tonight."

"You're welcome, Bones." After a few minutes, he sensed her looking at him again.

"Booth?"

He smiled. "Yeah?"

Her hand slipped out and clutched his. "Will you stay for a little while? It seems I don't want to be alone."

"I'm not goin' anywhere." He draped his arm over her shoulders, and without hesitation she leaned into him, settling easily against his side. If he noticed the occasional tear slide down her face, he was kind enough to ignore it. The evening grew long, leaving them quiet and still.

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"Booth."

"Booth…"

"Booth!"

"Wha…" Booth twitched as a finger poked him in the ribs. "What's wrong?"

"Wake, up, Booth." The finger poked again, harder, and reluctantly he opened his eyes. Bones was leaning over him, her eyes tired. "We fell asleep."

He stretched, feeling dozens of muscles protest, stiff from sleeping wedged into the corner of the couch. "Oh, man…what time is it?"

"Three A.M." She dropped down on the cushion next to him. "You should go home – we both need to get some sleep."

He twisted his head, trying to ease the kinks. "I don't know, it seems to me we **were** getting some sleep." He caught the expressive look she shot him – she was obviously well on her way back to being the old Bones – and slowly stood. "Yeah, you're probably right, we'll be more comfortable in bed." Her eyes widened, and he hastily corrected himself. "I mean, in our own beds – separate – not the same…." She turned to straighten the couch, and he blew out a silent breath. _That was close, stupid! Very eloquent…_ Disconcerted, he grabbed his jacket and headed to the door, stopping to study the wall. Noting the damage he'd done, he threw a charming grin over his shoulder. "Sorry, Bones – I guess I kinda broke your lock…"

Folding a blanket neatly over her arm, she faced him. "Well, I suppose under the circumstances, I guess I forgive you. Actually, it's a good thing tomorrow's Saturday," she added cagily as he grinned at her, "you can fix it for me." She watched his face sag comically, knowing full well he had tickets to some sporting event in the afternoon. She couldn't help knowing - even though she'd been avoiding him, she'd heard all about it. Adopting a deadpan expression, she looked at him expectantly. "What time should I expect you?"

He squirmed, running a hand through his hair. "Aw, c'mon, Bones, I have tickets for the Phone Booth tomorrow – it's the finals!" He knew he was dangerously close to whining, and aimed a pitiful look at her. "How about Sunday? I'll come by anytime you want…"

She finally relented, amused at his obvious distress. "Go. It's fine, I'll probably just fix it myself, anyway. Enjoy your game tomorrow." Her brow lifted at the offended look he gave her.

"Oh, no – I broke it, I'll fix it." He snapped his fingers. "Tell you what – I'll come by tomorrow after the game, get you all set up." He swung the door open, looked back at her. Looked closely. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Booth. Thank you for everything. And you were right – talking about it did help – it helped a lot." She watched him lock the door and leave, then sank down on the couch again, a troubled look on her face. _We talked about what happened – but I didn't tell you everything. How can I?_ She had slowly awakened about 30 minutes earlier, completely disoriented, knowing only that she was jammed against Booth, snugly wrapped in his arms. She'd been unable to make herself move, and had simply lain still, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, knowing she was as safe as she'd ever be, right there, right at that moment. The thought had occurred to her that, for the first time since she'd returned from Dulny, she'd slept without jerking awake on the jagged edge of a nightmare. Although her muscles were cramped and aching, she had felt comfortable – too comfortable, and that thought had driven her out of his arms, searching for some distance. She had a sinking feeling, however, that it would be impossible to gain enough distance from this development, that there was nowhere left to run. To tell the truth, she was tired of running.


	3. Chapter 3

**Just a little announcement regarding this sequel. This is fiction - in the real world, anyone suffering from any type of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder should see a doctor without delay. I do not in any way, shape or form recommend attempting to treat someone suffering from a PTSD.**

**Final chapter, folks! Thanks for being so patient while I fought with the story - and thank you so much for all the truly wonderful reviews! You make my day.**

**RECOVERY**

She spent most of Saturday catching up on some work she'd brought home, and continuing her therapy. She was vigilant about her convalescence, and was getting stronger every day. After finishing her exercises, she was resting on the couch when a thud at the door startled her. Before she could get up, the door popped open and Booth came in, stumbling slightly as he tucked the spare key in his pocket.

"Hey, Bones! How are ya?" He dumped a plastic bag on the floor and wandered into the room. His jacket hit the dining room table with a plop. "Mind if I grab a drink?" Without waiting for an answer, he poked around until he located a bottle of water near the back of the fridge.

"Booth – what's wrong with you?" She leaned back on the couch, watching him drain the water in one shot. He was acting very strange.

"Well, we stopped at Dewar's 12 after the game for a little bit to celebrate – the Hoyas won, by the way – and one thing led to another…" He capped the water, setting it on the counter. It promptly tipped over and rolled onto the floor.

She shook her head. "I don't know what a Dewar's 12 is,** or** a Hoya, but I'm thinking you** probably** shouldn't have driven here afterwards." She pointedly examined him, from the smear of dirt on his jeans to his slightly too-bright smile. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Really, I haven't had that much…and I didn't drive. I always take the Metro on game day." He turned in a circle, finally locating the bag he'd dropped. "Ah!" He upended the bag, and several items tumbled out onto the floor. "Where's your toolbox?"

She sighed. "Booth, I really don't think you should do this today. I'm perfectly capable of installing a door lock…" She broke off with an exasperated hiss as he waved his hand at her.

"Bones, I'm fine! Besides, I told you - I broke it, so I'll fix it. It's only right." He promptly dismissed her, turning his back and rummaging around the apartment until he located the toolbox.

Eyeing him doubtfully, she watched him for several minutes, until she was certain he wouldn't injure himself. As the repair to the door progressed, she started to prepare dinner for them. The food would help to sober him, and the strain of therapy always stimulated her appetite. She hobbled around, gathering ingredients, pulling out dishes. Interestingly, she noted that whenever she moved from one spot to the next, she attracted Booth's attention, and he would watch her closely, his face an inscrutable mask. She debated asking him what was wrong, but decided against it. It was most likely all the alcohol he had imbibed. She rolled her eyes, sighing. She would never understand the appeal of organized sporting events. In the next moment, she jumped as he let loose with a vicious curse. She quickly looked at him, certain he'd amputated something.

"This lock was put on with** nails**! And they're only 1/2 inch! A ten-year old could've done a better job on this!" He flung the nails angrily on the floor. "Bones, who the hell handles security for this building?"

Rather nonplussed, she limped toward the door. "I don't know - that lock was here when I signed the lease. I was assured that the building was well-secured." She leaned back as he held the offending scraps of metal in front of her face.

"Well, it's not! This piece of shit wouldn't keep** anybody** out." Pissed, he tossed the ruined lock across the room, where it landed in the garbage with a satisfying _thunk._

"You made that patently obvious last night." She stood behind him, arms crossed, watching him drill holes. "And here I thought it was just your abnormal strength." She paused, waiting for a reaction, and wasn't disappointed.

He swung around, hands on hips. "That just made it easier. That lock is still a piece of junk." He held up a large, solid-looking piece of hardware. "Two-inch screws - and I'm putting in a swing lock. They're stronger than chain locks." He turned back to the door, attaching the metal fixture with sharp twists of his hand. Bones watched as he worked, enjoying the play of muscles in his arms. Preparing dinner while he puttered around her apartment was strangely soothing – she had an image in her head, a picture of how it would be if every day was like this. To her surprise, it wasn't an entirely unpleasant scenario. Smiling inwardly, she went back to the kitchen to tend the meal. "Dinner should be ready soon – are you hungry?"

"You're cooking for me?" He tested the lock, found it to be solid, and shut the door. "Wow, thanks. What are we having?"

"Beef stew." He made an inarticulate, gravelly sound, and she turned to see him place a hand over his heart, a dazed look on his face. She laughed at the silly expression on his face. "Why do you look like that?"

"Beef stew?" He smiled, thrilled to eat a meal **he** didn't have to cook. He wandered over, sniffing the air conspicuously. "Man, Bones, I **love** beef stew! How'd you know?" He reached to grab a spoonful from the pot, but pulled quickly away as she swatted his hand. "C'mon, I'm starving!

She chuckled as she poured the mixture into two bowls. Sometimes he seemed like a bottomless pit. "I didn't know. I'm running out of groceries – I'll have to shop soon." Placing the bowls on a tray, she started to lift it, but Booth reached around her and plucked it from her hands.

"I got that, Bones. Wow, this really smells good!" They ate in easy silence, so comfortable with each other that she almost forgot his earlier strange behavior. Munching on a piece of carrot, she surreptitiously glanced at him as he began to wolf down his portion. She smiled. _Good thing there's more in the pot._ She always made extra when Booth was eating at her house.

Booth looked at her, speaking around a mouthful of stew. "Mmm, Bones, this is great – you know, you're really an excellent cook. You should make dinner for me more often." He grinned as she rolled her eyes. "What's in it?"

"Um…beef?" She met his aggrieved look with an innocent smile.

"I know that!" he huffed impatiently. "What else?"

"There's really not much in it, Booth. I'm out of nearly everything." She bent over her bowl, missing the quick flash of comprehension on his face.

Nonchalantly he spooned up more stew, careful not to look at her. "Make a list – tomorrow I'll pick up whatever you need."

She looked at him then, surprised by the stress in his voice. He avoided her scrutiny, eyes firmly fixed on his bowl – but he had that look on his face again, his expression carefully blank. She was not good at reading people – that was his area of expertise. But she'd learned a lot from him about picking up signals since they'd become partners. Something was clearly wrong, something he didn't want to discuss. "Thanks, Booth, but that's okay. I was planning on going tomorrow."

"No, really, I'll do it. I don't mind."

His tone was calm, bland even, and he offered up a casual smile. Yet she was sure something was bothering him. "What's wrong, Booth?" He didn't answer her, but picked at his dinner. Now she **knew** something was wrong. The day Seeley Booth didn't finish a meal – bad things were sure to happen on that day. "Booth, answer me…"

"Nothing's wrong, Bones. I'm just a little tired, that's all – had a little too much to drink. It's been a long day." He smiled again, but his face had a strained look to it that made her uneasy. "So – what are you gonna do with your Sunday? More work?" He started to fidget, and before she could say anything, popped up from the table, carrying his dish to the sink.

"You're changing the subject, Booth. Something's wrong – why won't you tell me?" She cleared the rest of the table, only to meet his disapproving stare as she filled her arms with bowls and dishes.

"I'll do that – why don't you rest for a while?" He tried to grab the armload, scowling when she stubbornly tightened her grip. "Will you let go, already, Bones? Go sit down."

"No – I want to know why you're upset – why won't you tell me?" He finally won the tug of war over the plates and dumped them unceremoniously on the counter. She was suddenly afraid he'd leave before she could stop him, before she could find out why he was upset, and moved quickly toward him, wincing in discomfort as her hip protested. He instinctively put out a hand to steady her, and she saw it – the expression so quick she almost missed it. Suddenly, everything was clear, his behavior made sense. He was distressed to see her in pain. Flooded with emotion, she gripped his hand tightly, refusing to let him pull free. "Booth, I'm sorry – I know you're worried about my injuries. But I'm really healing quite quickly – everything's okay."

"I know…" He freed his hands, shaking his head. "I'm fine, Bones, really." He glanced around, desperately searching for his jacket with the air of a man looking for a way out.

She knew he would avoid telling her if he could – not because he was afraid to talk about it, but because he would not want to burden her. She couldn't allow that to happen – they were partners, and partners helped each other. She gripped his hands tightly, forcing him to hold still. "Booth. Look at me, Booth." When he finally did, she continued resolutely. "I want to ask a favor of you."

He immediately softened, as she'd known he would. He could never refuse to help her. "Whatever you need, Bones, you know that. Just tell me."

She took a deep breath, hoping he would still agree once he understood what she wanted. "Will you tell me about Dulny? About what happened there – what happened to you?" He was reluctant; she could see it. His eyes had gone blank and unreadable again, so she hurried on. "I know my part of the story, but it would really help me if you told me about it – how you found me, everything."

"I don't know, Bones." He'd cut off his arm before he'd cause her more pain. She'd already been through enough – more than enough. He'd be damned if he'd add to her burden. He dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in spikes. "I don't want to upset you, make you remember again."

"I need this, Booth. You were right, what you said to me – I had to be open about it, be able to let it out. Remember, you said that to me once before, in Arlington?" She saw the quick flash of pain on his face and stepped closer, wanting to soothe. "Talking to you yesterday really did help – I feel much better, knowing that you know what happened. But I want you to tell me your side of things. Please – I really feel that it'll help me." _Help both of us, _she amended silently. He needed to talk about it, just as she had – she wanted to listen to him, just as he'd listened to her the previous night.

He retreated to the living room, and she trailed slowly behind, hoping she'd convinced him. Then she stared, shocked, as he sank to the couch and dropped his head into his hands. "Booth..." She was stunned. She'd only seen him this upset once, and that was when he'd revealed his past to her. He'd been hiding from the pain, just as much as she had. She was unsure how to approach him – in the past, her first instinct had always been to step away, but now her desire to give comfort overrode all else. In the end, she perched on the arm of the couch, waiting for him to speak. When he remained silent, she put her hand on his arm, nearly recoiling as she felt the tension radiating from him. "Please, Booth. You told me that it's important to be able to talk about these things. It's my turn to listen to you. Let me help you." For several moments, she was afraid he would refuse to share his thoughts. But finally he sat back, sighing heavily.

"When I first heard what happened, I was angry. No, I don't think **angry** is the right word for what I was. I was in a blinding rage – I would've flattened anyone that got in my way. I got to Dulny as fast as I could – however quick I was, it didn't feel nearly quick enough. I met my contact and headed toward your last known location. When I saw the building where you'd all been last, I wasn't angry anymore. I was terrified. They were dead – all of them. I was afraid I was too late. But you weren't there, so maybe you were okay. Based on information from the squints, I picked up your trail pretty quickly. Guess it helps to be working with the best lab rats in the country – they were really accurate. I followed it for a while, until…" He glanced at her, but she was listening calmly, so he continued. "I came across the body in the woods. It was pretty easy to see what had happened – but I didn't know if you were all right. There was nothing I could do but keep going. That rage I felt in the beginning? Didn't hold a candle to how I was feeling at that point. Luckily, I was able to use up some of the aggression during a couple of…altercations.

"I was so scared I wouldn't get to you in time, Bones. When I finally found you I was so grateful. I kept praying, knowing what a fighter you are. If you'd lasted that long, you could last just a little longer, and then everything would be okay." His head was bowed, his body taut as he remembered. Her heart ached for him, but she could think of nothing to say that would help. Hesitantly, she curled her arm around his shoulders, leaning against him, trying to comfort him as he'd comforted her. Without warning, his arms slid around her waist, and he once again pulled her onto his lap, into the circle of his arms, rocking slowly. She stroked his hair, rubbed the rigid muscles in his back. He was shuddering, clutching her tightly. She returned his embrace, hoping to ease his pain.

"This should never have happened. You were injured…I should've been there to stop it, to keep you safe." He pressed his face against her shoulder, drinking in her fresh, clean scent – knowing that however close he got, it would never be close enough. "I'd have ripped apart those fucking bastards that hurt you…"

She felt a wrenching tightness in her chest at his broken tone. "Booth, you did help me. I couldn't have done it without you - I wouldn't be here at all without you." She hoped she was saying the right thing, the thing that would make him feel better. He'd already borne so much pain in his life – she couldn't bear to be the cause of more suffering. "Don't do this to yourself."

He buried his head in the crook of her neck. "Don't ever leave, Temperance; please ...I couldn't bear it..."

His voice was harsh, betraying him, and she could understand, perhaps more than anyone else, the level of stress he was experiencing. She'd been so miserable herself, she hadn't even thought about what he'd been through. He was a protector – but he hadn't been able to protect her. And he'd had to kill again – she knew how much he detested having to kill. Hadn't he just mentioned the price again last night? Guilt speared through her - she should have known, should have realized that the ordeal had damaged them both. She kissed his forehead, offering up what comfort she could. Unconsciously she mimicked his actions from the night before, only knowing that they'd helped her when she was in need. "Shh, I'm not going anywhere. Seeley, it's alright, I'm right here." She pressed her lips to his forehead again. Then, led by an urge she couldn't quite quell, she placed her finger under his chin, tipping his head up as he'd done to her so many times in the past. Her heart overflowed when she saw the anguish in his eyes, and she leaned forward without hesitation.

Her lips touched his, gently, a feather-light touch. He stilled completely, looking at her with wonder as she deepened the kiss. It seemed as if the whole world stopped and was silent, waiting. Slowly, his lips began to move under hers, and his eyes closed. She surrendered everything she was to him, every thought, every emotion. She did not believe in God, or prayer, but silently, fervently, she wished for Seeley to find peace. For both of them to find peace.

He was drowning in her, in Temperance, and he was going under willingly. Her lips were soothing the ache in his chest, healing him when nothing else had worked. He had to be close to her, close enough to blot out all the worry and pain. Her lips left his, sliding to his neck to nuzzle gently, drawing a soft sigh from him. His eyes flashed open at the splash of moisture on his skin. "Don't cry, Temperance, please don't cry…" He sat back against the pillows, nudging her until she lifted her head. She was crying, but he knew the instant he saw her that the tears weren't from pain. They were from compassion. Compassion, borne of friendship. Borne of love. Their eyes met, held. Slowly, she moved closer until their foreheads were touching. Her hands drifted to his face, caressing him gently. They were in a world apart, a world where they alone existed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, I know, I said the story was over. I was unhappy with the way the final scene ended, I felt it needed just a bit more - something. So, I wrote a few more paragraphs - not a lot, but I feel better about where I've finished. And, well, B/B love - there's never enough of that, right? Thanks so much for all of your great reviews, and new stories will be posted as soon as possible.**

**RECOVERY**

He tightened his grip until her lips again met his. They were sinking again – drifting through time together, unhurriedly sampling the sweetness and savoring their newly discovered release. Heedless of time and place, mindless of the step that had been taken by both, they pressed closer, until finally the need for air parted them.

She twined her arms around his body and pressed her face to his chest, trembling violently. She'd meant to alleviate his pain, but, in doing so, had finally come to understand the truth of what was between them. She heard the wild tumbling of his heart; felt his arms around her, his lips on her hair. The emotions were so profound, so immense, that she knew she would never be the same. _I want to stay here forever._

"Temperance." He gently kissed her hair once more, twining his hands in the soft auburn richness, and raised her face to his. "You see, now, how it is for me. There's no going back. We can only go forward, but I swear to you we'll go forward together." His brown eyes, so full of tenderness and love, held her motionless, and demanded her honesty.

"I'm scared. I'm so scared, Seeley." Desperately, she searched out his mouth with her own. "Kiss me…if you kiss me I won't be afraid." Her voice shook, and silvery tears glistened in her eyes. She needed the reassurance of his closeness, this man who, she finally realized, had won her heart. Reason and logic fell like a house of cards before the sweeping storm of her love for him. He belonged to her, and she to him, forever. Her request was finally granted as his lips clashed with hers, his tongue tasting the honeyed depths of her mouth. As they embraced he whispered incomprehensibly, words of longing and love, promises and vows.

Finally he pulled away, panting, and stopped her before she could lean in again. "Temperance. I'm scared too. We'd be fools if we weren't afraid. But I'm not afraid for us – we're still the center. We will always hold."

She looked deeply into his eyes, this man, the only person who had never let her down, would never let her down. Her heart was healed. He stood before her, and she trusted. Her lips trembled, then parted. "I promise." Their breath mingled as his lips skimmed hers, and slowly everything else faded away.


End file.
